December 11th, 1999. I still have every email from the very first "conversation" I had with him.
|Yeah. He liked me from the beginning too.|
(And yes, the subject line was "If they called them sad meals, children wouldn't want to eat them" I was cool back then. Right? Right.)
So I haven't talked a lot about this, but honestly? One of the best things about moving is that I have my husband back. Not the sad, depressed man I was married to for the past few years. But my real husband. The guy who makes up songs for me every day and sees that commercial for some face cream or face-lift or some crap and says, "I don't understand why those guys talk about their wives looking twenty years younger...you look exactly the same as you did when I met you. Except thinner." He's really happy again. He really likes his job. He really likes his life.
He really likes me.
I really like him.
There are a lot of reasons us being here makes sense. I have to remind myself of that sometimes. Especially lately.
But having my husband back? Kind of makes the rest of it worth it.